I'm still on the run, diary. Only got you and the armour as companions... well, aside from Philip... but he's dead, and not at all helpful, so... should he count? I don't think so.
I've been on the move all day. My legs are exhausted. Taking this stupid armour was such a dumb idea. I keep seeing the zombies on the horizon, though - 'least I THINK I see them - so I don't have much choice. I can't stop or they're gonna take me, and if they do somehow catch up I can use the extra protection. Zombies never stop shambling 'til they get what they want, so I hear.
Gah. I want to stop. I'm so tired. Why am I out here again? Why am I not sleeping in my cramped little bed back at the castle?
Right. Because I infected the place with some plague. I guess that's a pretty good reason.
What the hell am I supposed to do once I get to Goblinoster? I don't know anybody there. I don't even know the name of the witch I'm supposed to find 'cause I didn't bother to ask when I left. What if there are lots of witches? There could be an entire freaking district of witches, for all I know. The witches' guild! Every second gods-be-damned goblin is a fucking witch! Wouldn't that just be my luck!
Between this and the gods-be-damned squeaking, well, I'm just having an awful day, diary. Pure misery. I can't even look at my feet, 'cause I bet my boots are in tatters from all this walking. Hell, I KNOW they're in tatters, 'cause grass keeps poking at my big toes.
Off to walk some more. I shouldn't have even stopped for this quick entry. You're my only source of consolation, diary.
Sigh,
Dragomir the Tired
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